In the Background
by PallasAthene13
Summary: A collection of short stories I've written on the background characters of The Hunger Games. These are the stories of the overlooked characters that really play a large part in the story. Rated T just in case. None of these are my own characters.
1. Cordin Riley: Ruining the Careers

**Background characters are always my favourites- the little tiny characters that nobody remembers but really play a big role in the story.**

**I am not Suzanne Collins and I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters in these stories.**

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><p>Cordin Riley<p>

Cato wants to kill me right away. "He's tiny. He can't handle a weapon. He's an easy kill. Let's just get rid of him." I cower down a little; I'm surrounded by the Careers, and this boy is four years older than me and at least twice my size. In the end, Marvel, the District Four girl (Kaia or something?) and Lover Boy convince Cato to keep me. Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, I step away from the Cornucopia and walk over to the tribute plates.

"We can't step off our plates for sixty seconds because of the land mines. Pressure activated, fairly powerful." Glimmer rolls her eyes, but now I ignore her- this is something I understand. "If these are anything like the bombs we work with in Three, they're disabled by the movement of a single wire that disrupts the electrical circuit inside. If I can get a hold of some, we could protect the supplies." Lover Boy kneels in the dirt beside me, laying his knife to the side. "We could probably dig them up, but we should set up supplies first."

Cato looks annoyed; I suppose he isn't used to letting other people make decisions. But I can tell he's out of his comfort zone, and has no idea what I'm really talking about besides blowing people up. Clove- she terrifies me almost more than Cato, she's vicious and sly- nods. "We can mimic the setup of the Cornucopia down by the lake, I guess. It would be easier to protect." I nod, looking at the supplies we've gathered. "Make a pyramid. String the netting around it too, just in case." Cato glares at me again. "Lover Boy, help Three with the first bomb while the rest of us set up the supplies. Kaia and I will come and help you, and Glimmer, Clove, and Marvel can guard." The others wander off, leaving me alone with the District Twelve boy.

The older boy starts digging in the dirt around the first bomb. I start to help, but he's much stronger than I am. After a few minutes of silence, he begins to speak. "You're smart, to have come up with this." Still digging, he looks at me. "And brave to take it to the Careers." I shrug. "A few more days to live. I won't last very long." The boy smiles. "That's one way to look at it. I'm Peeta, by the way." Without looking up, I reply, "Cordin Riley." This boy doesn't need to know much more about me. It's safer that way.

The first bomb is up soon, and I brush off the dirt. Just as I'd hoped, it ran on its own energy source, and the wires should be easy enough to manipulate. A red wire was moved, engineered to disrupt the circuit. This was District Three work.

Cato and Kaia reach us, barely sweating from the heavy moving. "Does it work?" Cato asks curtly. I nod. "It should. I'm going to test it. Stand back." Kaia pulls Cato and Lover Boy back while I hold the bomb carefully and move the wire back into place. The circuit starts up immediately, with an almost unnoticeable humming and a small amount of heat. Satisfied, I break the circuit again. "It works." We begin the grueling task of digging up the bombs and replacing them in a difficult pattern around the supplies.

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><p>The project takes two days. The bombs have to be placed just right, so setting off one won't set off the rest and destroy all the supplies. Sometimes I'm working alone, while the others Careers hunt. The Tracker Jacker day is the worst- we lose Glimmer and Kaia, Lover Boy runs off, and the others aren't in any shape to work. When they recover, it's scary how angry Cato is.<p>

Several days in, far longer than I thought I'd last, we see smoke coming from the woods. Cato is eager to hunt. They pull me along with them- I'm done my job now, and I think they just want me to get myself killed so I'm not in their way. But they can't afford to leave me alone and alive, knowing how to get to their supplies.

We're hunting when the explosions start. For a split second, I think it's a cannon. But there are too many, more explosions than Tributes left in the arena, too frequent and loud. The four of us look at each other, and we're all thinking the same thing. _The bombs._

As we run towards the supplies, Cato catches my arm. "If the supplies are gone, you're dead," he hisses. I swallow hard, then nod. We catch up with Marvel and Clove at the edge of the woods, where Clove is cursing like a fiend and Marvel is gripping his spear. Cato pushes me forward, and I approach the ruins alone.

Everything is gone. A couple rock throws later, I know that the bombs are too. The Careers approach the wreckage, poking around in the smoking remainders. Then Cato turns on me.

It's too late to run. His arms grip me, snap to the side, and everything goes black. My last thought is that, in a way, I've just ruined the Careers.

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><p><strong>Reviews, <em>por favor? <em>I'm probably doing Greasy Sae next, but I'm not sure.**


	2. Sae Blackthorn: The Most Beloved Hunter

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****The Hunger Games****, nor any characters mentioned in this story.**

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><p>Sae Blackthorn<p>

I'm standing in my usual place, at the back of the crowd, holding the jar. Most merchants have stands set up around the square during the Hunger Games, especially with both District Twelve Tributes still alive, but not us Hob merchants. Everybody would recognize us as the Black Market people.

On the huge screen, Katniss is trekking through the woods, grieving the loss of the little District Eleven girl. The cameras flash to Peeta, curled up in the riverbank, before going back to the District Two kids. They keep doing this, flashing between the remaining five Tributes. A boring day in the Capitol. A reprieve for us.

Ripper slides through the crowd to stand at my side. "How are we doing?" I glance at the jar in my arms. "Not bad. Better than yesterday. But not enough." She gives me a little half-smile, worried about the funds. She knows I'm worried as well; the camaraderie between the Hob merchants makes it easy enough for us to read each other's expressions.

A voice nearby catches my ear. "Who's the one with the jar?" A Peacekeeper. A middle-aged Seam woman answers. "Greasy Sae. Sae Blackthorn, I mean." The Peacekeeper nods and walks over.

"What's the jar for?"

"Funds, sir."

"Why are you collecting funds? We do not tolerate begging during the viewings."

"It's not for me, sir. I'm collecting money to help Katniss and Peeta."

The Peacekeeper glances at the screen, where Clove and Cato are out looking for victims. "Very well. Make sure it does go to them and not yourself, though." With a warning look, he walks away.

A few donations later, the Games draw my attention again. An announcement is taking place, but not for a feast. A rule change. Because now two Tributes from the same District can win.

Katniss and Peeta can both make it out. I foresee a much larger amount of money coming in for them in the next few days. With any luck, we can have a part in saving the lives of the baker's kindest son and the Hob's most beloved hunter.

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><p><strong>Reviews? Planning on doing the District Nine boy next (The one Clove killed when he was fighting Katniss for the backpack).<strong>


	3. Helena Montague: The Colour of Mourning

**The Hunger Games movie was AMAZING!**

**I know I said I was going to do the District Nine boy, but I changed my mind. He'll probably show up later on, though.**

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><p>Helena Montague<p>

It's three days into the Games when Seneca Crane approaches me. The Gamemakers are seated at our circular table, monitoring the arena. I'm in charge of the traps in the arena designed to drive the Tributes closer together. The first few days are usually uneventful for me. It's not until the field shrinks to a handful of players that my job becomes interesting.

"The Tributes are getting too far apart. They're spread out this year." I look up at the head Gamemaker and nod. "You want me to bring them back together." I look at the screen in front of me, showing the locations of the Tributes and the traps.

Seneca looks at the smirk playing across my lips. "What is it?" I laugh. "Look at where the Twelve girl is." He leans towards the screen and laughs with me. The Girl on Fire is right in the middle of an area set up for a forest fire.

"Ah, the irony. Do it." The other Gamemakers look up, and I raise my voice. "Forest fire trap detonating in three... two... one..." I press the button in front of me, and the world on the screen shoots up in flames.

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><p>The third Quarter Quell lies almost entirely on my shoulders. As a senior Gamemaker, second only to Plutarch Heavensbee, I knew my job was important. But this year's clock arena is completely in my control.<p>

I watch the time like a hawk. It's a few seconds until midnight, and I take a sip of the energy drink beside me. It's quite possible I won't sleep until these games are over. Thankfully, President Snow wants these unpopular Games done as soon as possible.

"Twelve o'clock lightning in three... two... one..." Lightning strikes the tree at the press of a button. This repeats every hour, sometimes working with the woman who controls the mutts, sometimes with the man who works with the weather. My energy is starting to wear out a few days in. Every hour, down to the second, I must be here. In between those vital moments as well, to stop whatever is happening.

I've just about had enough when the Girl on Fire destroys my entire life.

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><p>The execution is on a warm spring day. Every single Gamemaker, with the exception of Plutarch, is here. The Head Gamemaker himself is with the rebels. Naturally, it is our fault that the arena was destroyed and the rebellion started. With so much of that arena falling under my duties, I will receive the worst of the punishment.<p>

One by one, we file into the stage. I'm last, wearing a simple lavender dress. The colour of mourning.

What am I mourning? My own imminent death, naturally. The loss of one of the best jobs in the Capitol. My failure to prevent the uprising. In a way, I'm mourning Panem the day that I die. Because everything is crumbling down on our heads.

The bullet is coming towards my head. I am the last. Helena Montague, the last Gamemaker. The last to die.

As my head explodes in pain and my vision fades to black, I find myself focusing on the lavender dress. The colour of mourning.

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><p><strong>Okay, maybe I stole her last name from Romeo and Juliet...<strong>

**Most likely will not be updating until Tuesday.**


	4. Ayva Provado: Checkmate

**Okay, I kind of cheated last time and made up a character. Back to canon characters...**

**The following chapter contains suicide. Please read at your own discretion. You have been warned.**

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><p>Ayva Provado<p>

I didn't want to be in the Games.

Nobody does, I guess. But for me, that hatred, that fear, went so much deeper. Deep enough that, later, I'll be known as the stupidest tribute District Seven ever had.

They'll never guess that I played the game, just like everybody else.

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><p>"Ladies first!" I watch our District Escort wobble over to the glass Reaping ball on her impossibly tall heels. Fishing around for a moment, she pulls out a slip and walks precariously back to the microphone. "Ayva Provado!"<p>

Time stands still. Those two words bounce around in my head. _Ayva Provado. Ayva Provado. _Two words that will change- no, end- my entire life.

I make my way out of the fourteen-year-olds' section and walk towards the stage. Unlike the Capitol woman, I'm stable in my sensible shoes. But I'm quivering, really. Scared to death.

I couldn't tell you what happens next. The male Tribute is called, of course, but I don't even notice who he is. People are speaking, Peacekeepers marching me away, but it's all hazy. _Ayva Provado, District Seven Tribute in the 68__th__ Hunger Games._

Then my family is here and I have to snap out of it. Be brave, for now, just for them. Not the fake bravery I'll have to show in the Capitol. My little sister clings to me. "It's just like chess, Ayva. You'll win if you make the right moves!" My older brother, Alder, is the only one that recognizes the glint in my eyes. As my family is leaving, he takes me in his arms. "You're planning something, O Cunning One." I smile in answer. "Don't let the Capitol change you. Please." Hugging my brother one more time, I'm secretly glad someone recognized that I'm not nearly as stunned as I seem.

Alder gives me one last gift before the Peacekeepers take him away. He hands me a little wooden ball, small enough to fit concealed in my hand. "A good luck charm."

Later, on the train, I recognize it. The little ball Alder carved out of the stump of the first tree he cut down by himself. He spent hours carving, smoothing, polishing it into a perfect sphere. A memory of the first success a child has in District Seven. I wonder if he'll regret giving it to me after my death.

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><p>The Capitol is incredible, in a sickening way. It's beautiful, magnificent, huge... but so wasteful, so sadistic, so twisted. In another life, I might enjoy the Capitol. But Ayva Provado despises it.<p>

My prep team and stylists treat me like an animal, but I've worked myself past caring.

Shock, sadness, anger, hatred, pity, and now just a lack of emotion. The Reaping, goodbyes, the train ride, viewing the Capitol, meeting the people who live there... and now my rooms. Shock at my bad luck. Sadness knowing I'm leaving my family for good. Anger at my impending death. Hatred aimed at the Capitol for these Games. Pity for the brainwashed, sadistic people who live here.

It's amazing how many emotions a girl can feel in less than a day.

But under it all, a plan is forming. _O Cunning One. _I plan to live up to the nickname my brother has given me. Just like the Capitol, I'm playing the game. Just like my little sister told me.

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><p>My token is concealed in my hand as I step onto the silver platform that will lift me into the arena. I made up my mind long ago, before I was even aware of what I was planning.<p>

The platform rises, and the sunlight temporarily blinds me. I ignore the arena, even when my eyes adjust. It holds nothing for me.

The countdown starts, and I open my hand. To anyone else, I'm just looking at my token. But it's so much more.

I want to die on my own terms. Not in some twisted game the Capitol is forcing me to play. Every District child knows that the platforms are surrounded by landmines, and the District Three kid told me during training that they're probably set off by pressure. If not, the world will see this as a mistake. If so, I've made my last move in the game.

They'll remember me as an idiot or as a warning. I hope Alder sees the motives behind my moves.

For me, this game has always been about death. Not avoiding it, just dictating how you die. My only regret is that Alder will never get back the token.

I let the ball drop from my hands.

Checkmate.

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><p><strong>That chapter was a bit depressing (at least for me to write), sorry. I just wanted to express a character that's almost completely unknown, just remembered as the girl who dropped her token on the landmines. It could have been a mistake, but for me, it was a tiny act of rebellion by a girl with nothing else to lose.<strong>


	5. Piers and Paeton Mellark: Regrets

**I'm super sorry for disappearing for months. I lost my username, and I only just found it. I'll be more active!**

**So, in apology… have a double story!**

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><p>Piers Mellark<p>

I thought the Reaping would seem different, being 19. It would seem detached, not as scary. But I was still scared. Scared for Paeton, even though we've never gotten along. Scared more for Peeta. Scared for Erika, who would be 19 in just a few days. It was terrifying that my girlfriend was still young enough for the Reaping. Let alone my baby brothers.

Erika squeezes my hand before letting go. Her bright blue eyes lock with mine. "I'll be fine, Piers. Really. There are other kids with so many more slips than I have." Of course. Her father is a successful merchant, even better than my dad. Tessarae is something she never even thinks about. My eyes follow her as she joins the other girls her age.

"Piers?" Peeta's at my elbow now, hair slicked back. He's too old for a hug, but I give him one anyway. "You'll be fine. Go." Paeton follows him wordlessly, and they split to join their respective age groups. 17, arrogant, and lazy, my middle brother has no goodbyes for either of us. Really, I'm fine with that.

I join my parents in the crowd of adults. My father's arm is around my mother, but there's no love between them. There never has been. The Reaping starts as we form an awkward family, unloving, well-off. The picture of District 12 merchants.

This is what I'm thinking of when Katniss Everdeen runs at the stage. I know her, sort of. She sells squirrels to Father. A Seam girl, nobody remarkable. Until now.

The shock of a volunteer in 12 is obvious. Which is why nobody reacts for a second when Effie Trinket calls out "Peeta Mellark" and my baby brother walks towards his death.

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><p>Paeton Mellark<p>

I can hear them thinking it. _Volunteer, volunteer, volunteer_. Just because one girl steps in for a whiny brat doesn't mean I will. Family is nothing in the Reaping. They know that.

But the disappointment in Piers's eyes still catches me. It's no secret that I'm the odd one out. He can't really expect me to…

Peeta's young, but not that young. Just a year younger than I am. He'll be fine. I don't need to sacrifice my own life for him. The twelve-year-old, Pam, or whatever her name is, would be a different story. A stronger 16-year-old is better. But Peeta doesn't need me. It would be embarrassing, horrible…

This is what runs through my head as the crowd leaves me standing, alone. And somehow, deep down, I know that everybody in my family will be full of regrets tonight. Regrets that nobody stepped up to save Peeta. Regrets that we will lose him.

Even me.

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><p><strong>My cousin named Paeton and Piers. And then bullied me into actually using the names. Blame her.<strong>


	6. Achilles Deleon: Hope

**I'm doing one more update tonight because I'm in a writing mood. Super happy to be on again!**

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><p>Achilles Deleon<p>

It was midnight when we ran. Honestly, I never thought we'd do it. But we weren't blind to what was going on. We hated it, hated everything about the Capitol, about our lives.

So we ran. We planned at night, left at night. We knew exactly what we were doing. We knew the consequences. We knew that we were going to die. But, as she said, going on living here would be unbearable.

I guess it was Jewel's fault. The tall, enchanting District One Tribute. The kind of girl who makes everybody turn, and whose eyes contain more emotions than her face. She was captivating, the one time that we met.

The Games killed her.

It wasn't too long after that when we ran. Hand in hand, leaving behind our entire lives. For a rumor, a hope, a whisper in the dark. Lavinia and I ran for District 13.

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><p>We made it as far as 12. It took days. We were starving, tired, dehydrated. I was limping from a twisted ankle. Lavinia was on the verge of a panic attack. That was when they came.<p>

We knew we'd never make it, really. But we hoped. And we were close, so close.

The hovercraft appeared just as I was beginning to believe in our escape. The entire world was made of noise, it was loud, so loud. The wind and the noise and the fear were disorienting. Lavinia tugged on my arm, pulling me away. I caught the glimpse of a person, two people, watching us. Then the woods stood still and pain was my entire existence.

Her screams followed me as the spear tugged me up. I tried to call back to her, but nothing worked. The world turned red, then black. The last things I saw was a pair of eyes, captivating and emotional enough to make me give up my life. The red hair of my best friend. _Jewel… Lavinia…_

_Don't give up hope..._

"ACHILLES!"

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><p><strong>So, I've decided I'm going to make an entire FanFic for Ayva (Chapter 4) because I love her. I don't know when I'll be able to start it, but it's happening!<strong>


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